Chapter 1: The Beginning

I ran away from home when I was fifteen and I have been either running or looking over my shoulder ever since. My father died at work shortly after my tenth birthday. It was an industrial accident that should have, and could have, been prevented if his employer had done the things he was supposed to do. My dad was a machinist, and all the machines in the shop were old and many didn't have the proper safety guards that they were required to. When the police, and later OSHA, investigated the accident, they found the owners liable for all kinds of fines and possible criminal negligence. A good friend wanted my mother to sue them for negligence and causing the accident. She got a really good lawyer, and she ended up with five million dollars between my dad's insurance policies and the suit. Collecting the suit money was hard with all the litigation against the owners and their corporation, and it ended up that she was paid monthly out of an annuity type of thing that the court and the lawyers had control over. But she was not hurting for money though.

That was not the reason for my leaving. As I grew up from there, I became the spitting image of my father. Daniel James Connor, my father, was 6-1 and 205 lbs and a real handsome devil. Because of his poor background, he never went to college, but he had something most other poor kids didn't have; he had a brain and was smart as a whip. Even though he didn't go to college, he could figure anything out and knew how to work with his hands and his brains, so he could do any job if he was shown how once or twice. He also had the gift of gab. He could talk the birds from the trees or women out of their panties in a heartbeat. He met Rosanna Sprinkle in high school and he instantly fell in love, but she was from the wrong side of the tracks, really. My dad's family lived south of the tracks on the poor side of town, and my mother came from north of the tracks on Nob hill; naturally, everyone south of the tracks called it 'Snob Hill'.

Rosanna's father owned the local bank and a dozen other businesses in town and a few in the next town over. Besides being a banker, he also was a lawyer. It came about that, during her junior year in college, Rosanna met my father again during summer vacation. She had been messing around with a professional student named William Fenton Gates III. He was a seventh year senior and had yet to graduate, but with his family's wealth and donating lots of money to the college, he always stayed in school. Anyway, much to Mother's surprise; she missed her first period when she returned home for the summer. She immediately contacted William. He laughed at her and said he was tired of fucking her anyway and that she should find some other poor sap to marry her.

John Sprinkle was too proud to let this go unchallenged, and sought to rectify the problem and William the Second explained that if he tried to make 'Trey' marry Rosanna, he would make sure the whole affair was pasted all over our local papers indicating that Rosanna was trying to capture a prize husband, since they were much more affluent than the Sprinkles. John, my grandfather, gave in and asked Rosanna if she would submit to an abortion. She said that she would not, but she had an idea about who to capture for a husband.

Rosanna had always liked my father, so she went after him vigorously and caught him within a month. They had made love several times in that month and then she told him she was sure she was pregnant. Dad, being the gentleman he was, asked her to marry him. She accepted and that is how Elisabeth Rose Connor came to be. A year later, Daniel James Connor, Jr. was born, and then just over ten years later, I, Jason William Connor, was born. Needless to say, I was somewhat of a surprise. Becky and DJ were both in college, and I was just starting fifth grade when Dad was killed. My problem stemmed from the fact that Rosanna had always really loved Dan, but knew she could never have him, until her glorious little mistake. I think my father always knew deep in his heart that Becky was not his, but he never let on as far as I knew. He loved all of us as much as he could. Both our parents were very loving.

As I approached my fifteenth birthday, my mother was finally coming out of her depression from losing my father. Still fairly young, and definitely beautiful at 48, she started looking at me differently. I had grown over the summer of my fourteenth year, and I was six foot tall and 175 lbs when school started in the fall. I had worked on a farm over the summer and had grown a couple of inches in height, filled out, and looked much like my father did at that age. I was into wrestling and baseball, so the summer job was mainly to keep my body toned for the coming fall and spring sports.

My mother was suddenly always touching me or being very close to me. Since DJ was now in college almost a thousand miles away, and Becky was at another college almost fifteen hundred miles in the opposite direction, I was alone at home with my mom. My mom was now running around the house in a bra and panties, or in just a thin robe that was very loosely tied, and she was giving me a show of her still beautiful body. As a young teenaged male, I was thrilled that I was seeing female flesh at first, but the fact that it was my mother's body slowed things down and put a damper on my enjoyment of her form. I tried to explain to my mom that yes, she was still very beautiful, but that she was my mom and I didn't like the way she was flaunting her body at me.

Mom was very prim and proper when Becky and DJ came home from college for the holidays, but once they left, I was alone again with this woman who didn't want to take no for an answer. She kept telling me how much I was like my father; tall, blondish brown hair, and light blue eyes. She said that my eyes looked into her soul and pulled her to me with an invisible string tied to her heart. Finally, on the night of January fifth, I got the surprise of my life. I felt someone crawling in bed with me; it was my mother and she was naked. As she slid in the bed I could hear, "Oh Dan I have missed you so much. Make me a woman again; show me how much you love me Danny. I need you so much my love."

I immediately left got out of bed and hid in the basement. I knew this was bad, how could I tell my friends what had happened and not be condemned by them. Also Mom would know where to look. I had to disappear for a while until we could both think rationally and cope with this matter. Would Mom ever come out of her depression? Was she now delusional as well?

Mother worked in the mornings as an accountant at her father's bank for some of their preferred clients, so I waited until she left for work and I packed my duffel bag and headed out of town as quickly as I could. I stopped at the next town and used the ATMs at several banks and grocery stores, then turned south and started hitchhiking. I had to leave. Because I had headed east for my cash, everyone thought I went in that direction.

From there, I mainly stopped at truck stops and tried to get rides with truckers going anywhere. I had been extremely lucky that I was not picked on or assaulted as yet. I let my hair grow long, colored it dark brown, and tried to grow a beard. I made a fake scar on my cheek with a magic marker set and kept it looking fairly fresh. I definitely looked like someone else when I looked in the mirror. I had gotten to St. Louis before I saw the first Amber Alert for me. The pictures they had were from before my growth spurt and one of my dad's from a few years before his death. They were saying I should look more like my dad than the other picture, but that I was only fifteen and that I might have been kidnapped. As I was leaving St. Louis that first time, I saw a shredder at the truck stop and I shredded my student ID and ATM cards and I had never once looked to see if I had any money left in my bank account. I headed west from there and traveled all over the US and Canada for four years, working when I could find work and just trying to stay out of the limelight.

I hoped they had finally stopped looking for me by then. I was nineteen now and I wanted to settle down. I figured that a big city was the best place where I could disappear and not be noticed. I had worn the scar for so long that I guess that the permanent marker had left a faded mark on my cheek that could have been mistaken as a scar. I decided to settle in Houston, Texas, for a while, got a job in a gas station, and started reading textbooks. I wanted my GED and I wanted college too. In California, I got a driver's license under the name Ron Reagan; yeah I know, lame right, but they bought it hook, line, and sinker out there. Anyway, I got a new one with the same name once in Texas, and started working. I had applied for a social security card in California, up near Sacramento when I worked the orchards and farms picking peaches, walnuts, and pecans. I had upped my age when I got to California by two years so I could legally work the farms.

I started reading the textbooks because some asshole kids left several at the gas station and I really wanted an education. This working for peanuts and only getting shitty jobs sucked, but it did turn me into a man just like my father. I could do anything with my hands and I had the street smarts to survive. If I was showed anything once, I could to it and sometimes improve it. Anyway, a week later, the kids came back into the station wondering if they left their books there. I reached behind the counter and handed the books over. They were world geography, algebra, social studies, and Texas history books. They didn't all belong to the same kid, so I gave them back and said that they should really study if they didn't want to end up like me. I guess they took my advice to heart, because I never saw them again.

The guy who hired me had several stations in town, as well as an apartment complex and several rental homes. I asked him if he needed help at any of his other stations, or if he needed a handyman for any of his other investments. He kind of took a little pity on me and set me up as the handyman at one of the apartment complexes he had. I found out later that he had many more apartment complexes beside the one I was at. I worked as the manager by day and at the gas station by night. I lived free at the apartment and made some decent money at the station, so I got a library card and started learning English so I could pass my GED. After a year of studying, I went to a night school and said I would like to take my GED test. The guy kind of laughed at me at first, and then I asked him in a much more forceful voice if I could take the next test that was coming up. He said that he had a practice test I could take while his class was going on, so I sat in a corner and took his damn test. He couldn't believe I could ace the test, so he told me to come back the next night and he would give me another test. I told him I worked six nights a week and this was my only night off. He said to come by next week and he would have a test for me. I studied my ass off all week and come Friday evening, I was there when he came in to open the classroom. He asked how I got around, and I said, "Bike."